The pain and abuse inflicted by my master is matched by the growing fondness of my departed siblings and family. My given name is Isaiah Jackson, but the master calls me a fool, and claims that I am worthless. I am one of the few educated slaves, but that doesn't change our bond. The days that we spend harvesting in the field is unpleasant, as the sun scolds our skin, and the lashings make us cry out in pain. Georgia is a home of comfort for the masters and upper class, but it is an unwelcoming region of somber for us slaves. While it seems like we are devoid of any hope, our faith brings us close, knowing that God has not forgotten our cries. We also bring joy to our lives when we play our music in our small shack near the farmhouse that master
